Justice is Blind
by SaltedBlood
Summary: When a victim shows up seeking Gideon, the BAU and the DC Police have a hard time believing a murderer has returned to kill her. But her fear and desperation take their toll on Spencer. How far will he go to give her the closure she needs? Reid/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my second CM Fanfiction and please excuse any grammatical errors or such like that. I don't plan on making this OC-centered or a love at first sight thing. Relationships tend to take a long time to build up, and it also adds suspense, so bear with me. xD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or its characters.**

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><p>Mondays were never pleasant days for Spencer. He hated the starts of new weeks, even as a little boy. He would rise up in the morning by the sound of his alarm clock, then remember he was returning to an intimidating habitat of bullies and pretentious girls, and get up anyway.<p>

Nowadays, there had been a lack of any challenging cases sent in for the team. Not that he was complaining. This weekend he was able to indulge in his reading, sitting on his velvet arm chair with a tome in his lap. He was even able to catch a few reruns of Doctor Who and hold a chat with the coffee girl for more than a minute.

But something bad always seemed to happen to await him on Mondays. Whether it be a pile of new cases to review, another surprise therapy session discussing Emily's death, paperwork waiting to be filled, or coffee stains.

Unfortunately, this Monday wasn't any different.

"Excuse me..excuse me, sir, I'm looking for Jason Gideon."

Reid stopped walking. His Mondays really were cursed. Of course, he didn't really believe that. Maybe he just let himself get bothered to easily on these days. Once again, the promising blue sky and lack of exhaustion in his body had fooled him. It wasn't the first person who had come to the FBI in search of one of the greatest profilers that ever existed. He looked down at his coffee, grimacing for a second.

Then he turned to face the stranger. She was a young girl, probably in her twenties. She looked like a University student, her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail.

Reid really despised telling the people that his mentor, his _friend,_ had left. It makes it seem like he just ran away. He somehow just refused to believe that. It was one of the reasons the chess set still sat on his table. "Look, uh…"

"Do you work here?" she cut him off abruptly, her eyes light brown eyes fleeting.

The doctor nodded slightly. "Yeah, uh, I'm actually in the team Agent Gideon was in," he explained, clearing his throat and looking down. He really didn't want to go through this today, telling another friend of Gideon's that he didn't know where he had gone, but he was, in fact, gone. "Listen, I've really got work to do and..."

He wasn't sure what had made him so uncomfortable about her. Maybe it was the fact she knew Gideon and she reeling in unwanted memories he tried too hard to forget.

Maybe it was the way she was so fidgety and uneasy it made him feel the same way.

"My name is Amelia Hale, but you can just call me Millie. Listen, agent, this is an emergency." Her grave voice reminded him of robots he'd seen in his science fiction movies. Suddenly, the urgency in her tone made Reid realize this girl's situation could really be an emergency.

"What—What exactly is going on, Miss Hale?" He started to walk and she followed him.

"Jason knows…" she muttered, biting her fingernail. "I need to see Agent Gideon."

_You and I both._ He frowned. "He's…not really here anymore."

Millie stopped and Reid glanced back at her. He instantly regretted doing so. Her face morphed into such despair, the young agent didn't know how to react. "What?" she choked out, eyes wide.

"He left a couple of years ago." Reid gritted his teeth together. _Without an actual goodbye, he just took off. Walked out of our lives._

The girl looked as if she were about to break down. "Oh _God..._he was the only one..." She trailed off, putting her hand on her forehead and shutting her eyes.

"What's this about..?" Reid prodded gently. She raised her gaze, trying to maintain composure.

Hesitating, the girl began to speak. "Fourteen years ago...my parents were murdered. Jason Gideon, he helped us...he took care of my older sister and I. He never found our parents' killer, but he found his accomplice and put him away I guess.." Millie inhaled sharply. "We moved after than and we haven't been bothered, really. Until last night. My older sister is missing. Everyone thinks she just ran off but I found this taped on our apartment door. On the _inside_ of the door, agent."

Millie handed him a plastic bag, not looking at it. Reid winced. "I'm back and more bloodthirsty than ever, my love.." he read aloud and sighed. "Look, if you'd like, I'll see if I can get my team to—"

"You have to help me," she told him weakly, and it seemed as if she'd aged a good twenty years for a moment. "He's _waiting_."

* * *

><p>As instructed, Millie stayed in the building, sitting on a waiting chair. She was nervous and couldn't cease squirming. <em>Calm down,<em> she told herself, attempting to clear her head with breathing exercises her sister had taught her. Fighting back tears that were threatening to pour, Millie shut out all thoughts of her sister immediately. She closed her eyes and found herself hoping Gideon would return.

Wherever he was.

He had made her sister and her feel safe and secure. She suddenly remembered his kind face and how he made everything alright, even though their parents were sitting in a bedroom, bloody and butchered.

She smoothed down her gray pencil skirt, blinking rapidly. What if they didn't take the case? What would happen to her sister? Where would Millie herself go? The murder had taken place in Pennsylvania, and she and her sister had moved here, yet still, he had _still_ found them.

When she saw a tall, stern-looking man approach her, she immediately stood up, pressing her lips tightly together. _That quick?_ Millie tried to smile, drawing in a breath. Maybe everything would work out like it should. She could already picture her sister's fresh, hot pancakes waiting for her on the kitchen table. Perhaps they would finish what Agent Gideon had started.

But her hope shattered almost as soon as it had come. She didn't even have to ask. The way he looked at her sympathetically, she already knew they weren't going to help her.

"Agent Hotchner," he told her and they shook hands. "I'm sorry, Miss Hale, but we are bound by jurisdiction. Unless we can get an invite from the DC P.D., we can't progress in this case. Come back with a lead detective that has the authority to request federal presence."

She had trouble speaking as a result of her throat's current constriction. "My sister…she's missing…he could be torturing her right now."

Agent Hotchner sighed and she knew it wasn't the first time someone had brought a situation like this. "Isn't it possible she's just playing a prank on you? And that she'd run off somewhere? She is, after all, over 18 years old right?"

Millie cringed. "Oh, no she'd never…no would ever do this. Not with this subject. Please, no one is going to believe me."

"I'm sorry, Miss Hale. There's nothing we can do right now. Why don't you go and talk to the police?"

How _foolish_ she'd been to actually believe everything would be alright. "Agent Gideon…" she croaked out. "He…I need to find him. Can you tell me where he is..?"

The BAU chief closed his eyes and for a moment, Millie saw his face turn from solemn to poignant. "We honestly don't know. I'm sorry."

And he left her there, standing, looking so hopelessly lost.

* * *

><p>A certain intrigued doctor called Garcia that night.<p>

"Hey, uh, Garcia?"

"Yes, my sweet prince?"

"This may sound slightly weird, but can you search up one of Gideon's unsolved case files for me?"

There was a pause on the other line. "A strange request," she started cautiously, "but it shall be done." Reid smiled to himself, grateful she wasn't asking questions. He tried to remember the panicky girl's name. "One of the witness' names might have been Hale. Mary, Millie Hale. Something like that."

A few clicks later, she spoke up. "Nothing. It looks like that case wasn't ever filed. At least, not with Gideon in it." Garcia took another pause. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said quickly. "Just genuine curiosity."

Garcia chuckled, "Morgan told me about the girl that came in today. Is this about her? You know it's not your responsibility to-"

"What? No! Well, actually yes. Look, I just want to know if Gideon really was involved in a case that she was in," Reid explained hastily. The chatty analyst giggled. "Heh, alrighty my darling genius. Will that be all?"

He glanced down. "Er, what _can_ you get me on the witness?"

"Mary Mille Hale?"

He shut his eyes tightly, struggling to remember. "Amelia Hale."

"I forgot how much you sucked at remembering things you've heard," Garcia told him smugly.

"Okey-doke, Amelia Hale. 23 years old, lives with her sister in DC in her sister's apartment. Amelia is an art student at Georgetown and her older sister, Briana, 28 years old. She's got a bachelor's degree in medicine and law and she works as a forensic nurse. And they are...oh...they're orphans." The sing-song tone of the spunky analyst's voice vanished abruptly. "God..their parents were murdered while they lived in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. They'd just gotten home from school and they found them..."

Reid thought for a moment. "How old were they when this happened?"

"Briana was fourteen, while Amelia was...nine. It looks like the murderer was never caught, but his possible accomplice was. Their aunt received custody of them, and it looks like they lived in peace in Mansfield for a while, and she died a year after they moved to DC together."

"How did she die?"

"A cardiac arrest."

"Thanks Garcia," Reid replied, and then hung up. He began to wonder if it was another case with no solid evidence that there was a crime. Reid recalled the obsessive compulsive Detective McGee, with the little notebooks. Was it a case like that?

Was there a case at all?

* * *

><p>Millie stepped out of the taxi, making sure to pay the driver extra. He had, after all, drove her from Quantico to DC. She sauntered over to the police department, clutching that speck of hope that she refused to part with.<p>

As she entered the police station, she looked around. "Excuse me.." she called softly. None of the cops even looked at her. Her petite figure was invisible with the uniformed cops that swarmed around her. "Excuse me," she said a little louder. One young officer with sandy blonde hair turned to her. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I'd like to speak to the person in charge," she told him, with more strength than she thought she had. The younger cop frowned. "Detective Sanders is pretty busy…"

"Please," Millie insisted. "It's a matter of life and death."

Hesitating, the cop led her through the crowds of officers to the detective's office. She fumbled with her fingers.

"Detective Sanders, someone's here to see you," announced the cop quickly and skidded off. The detective was old, perhaps in his fifties. Millie tried to smile. "And who're you?" he asked with forced patience, setting his papers down.

"Amelia Hale, sir. I'll cut to the point, since you're..ah..busy. I'm here because my sister is missing and I think the same person who murdered our parents fourteen years ago took her."

The detective simply stared at her, his eyes flashing. "Have you filed a missing person's report?"

"No, they wouldn't let me. They told me I had to wait a week—"

"And have you?"

"No, I haven't. I can't wait that long, sir, she could already be dead by then." She bit her lip harshly, aware of how ridiculous she sounded.

"Well, Amelie, what evidence do you have to support your theory?"

"It's Amelia," she corrected hastily. "And aside from the fact that my sister does not simply leave without telling me, I found this taped on the door of our apartment." She showed him the note. The detective looked at it for a few seconds and handed it back. "You are aware first of all, fourteen years is a long time and the killer might already be dead. Second of all, has it occurred to you that this may be a practical joke. Do any of your friends know your parents were murdered and the guy was never caught?"

She understood was he was implying. Her speck of hope was slowly withering away. "Well, yes, but—"

"Couldn't be possible your sister has just run off with some friends, or maybe her boyfriend?"

"She would never joke about something so serious—"

"And has it occurred to you, this note might not be implying your parents' murderer at all? It could very well mean some weird and slang confession of love to you or your sister from an admirer or a past beau. Or perhaps a neighbor that knows who you and your sister are and wanted to be funny. Or anyone really, who wanted to screw around with you."

"But, sir—"

"Or maybe, you just want attention, and forged the note yourself and are simply wasting my time."

"With all due respect, sir, I'm 23 years old, I would _never _do such a thing, and I know for a fact no one could leave such a note except for the murderer. My sister could be dead as we speak." She looked down, drawing in a deep breath. "Please, could you just have this tested for fingerprints?"

"That involves forensic analysis and the crime scene unit, and I don't believe there even is a crime," snapped the detective. "Let me be clear, I am _not _going to sacrifice precious manpower for _this. _I have more important work to do, Miss Hale, if your sister doesn't turn up within a week, then you may file a missing persons report and we can assume crime really has been committed."

"But sir, by then she'll be dead!" she objected frantically. "That's enough, Miss Hale. Officer Wright!" A scowling officer entered within a few seconds. "Escort this young lady out."

"I can escort myself out," she said lowly, swatting away the escort's hand. Without looking up, she strode out of the detective's office, shaking.


	2. Chapter 2

**Another chapter! Please review it would mean so much to me (:**

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><p>Three grueling days passed.<p>

Millie had lost practically all her hope. She had shut down connections with everyone she knew. She knew she was the little mouse in this game and her parents' murderer was the cruel, masochistic cat.

As for the BAU, they forgot about her as soon as she left. It wasn't the first time a person had come to the FBI building, seeking help and protection from assailants that didn't even exist. Millie had been just another paranoid civilian. The only one who actually remembered her was Spencer Reid.

Spencer Reid, who had managed to get Millie's address.

Spencer Reid, who had sat in his car, staring at the apartment building, debating whether he was doing what he should be doing.

Eventually, he had gotten out of his car, but had failed to persuade her doorman into letting him into the apartment building, having forgotten his badge, and so he sat outside on a small wooden bench, lost in his thoughts that swirled around his head.

_Had this been a personal case for Gideon?_ he pondered.

_Why did the case file have no record of him being involved if Mille had said he was the one that had found the murder accomplice?_

"Dammit, _talk_ to me!"

The startling shout snapped him out of his daydream mode. He turned his head, eyes wide in the dark. Two figures had just turned a corner, the first figure belonging to a shorter woman and the second to a man. They seemed to be arguing.

He watched them out of the corner of his eye.

"Go away," he heard the woman say. "You shouldn't be here." She said something else, but he couldn't quite catch it.

"Why the _hell_ do you keep saying that?" the other exclaimed furiously.

The woman shook her head. "I've lost interest in you and our relationship and to be honest, you've always been a jerk. Go away." Her voice was only slightly raised.

The man looked outraged. "_I've lost interest in you?"_ he roared. "Millie, _please,_ what the fuck is going on with you?"

The woman spun on her heel and muttered something to the man. Reid watched as the man lifted his arms, his face twisted in frustration. "Fine," he said, already walking away. "Take your stupid piece-of-shit sketchbook, too, you _heartless bitch!"_

The leather-bound book hit the ground with a loud thud and stray papers scattered everywhere with the wind.

Reid jogged up to help her as she tried to pick up the papers and the book while still balancing two grocery bags.

"I've got it—oh..it's you." Millie stared at him, her eyebrows furrowed. She seemed apathetic, but the dark circles under her eyes and the way she looked at him suggested a deep emotional exhaustion that made her look a lot older again.

Spencer stood, clutching her papers in his hands, trying to put his story together. He was pretty sure she didn't want to see him. He had, after all, failed in getting his team to accept the case. Not that he blamed his team. Her evidence was far from plausible. "Can I help you with those?" he asked her, after racking his brain for something to say.

Millie glanced down at the groceries in her arms. "You really shouldn't be here," she responded in a quiet voice. He handed her the papers back.

"I know I couldn't get the BAU to take the case and I know you'd rather not talk to me, and I'm really sorry for—"

She raised a hand, her eyes closed. "I'm not mad at you. I know how this looks to bureaucrats. I wouldn't believe me either." Millie sighed. "He could be watching us as we speak. Anyone I'm seen with will be a target, do you understand? You should just go home."

As she started to walk away, Reid couldn't help himself. "Is that what happened with your friend?"

She looked back at him, slightly irritated. "What do you mean?"

"Your distancing yourself from your loved ones to not get them hurt?"

"I don't have to explain anything to you, _agent._" She was glowering at him now. Reid stared at her with his eyes wide and mouth was open, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know what to say. She had isolated herself to protect others. Her fear was starting to get to him.

"I could help you," he called after her. "I worked with Gideon for years, I really can help you."

She blinked and stared at him as if she were unsure she had heard him right. "You believe me?" she asked.

Did he believe her?

He hesitated, weighing his options. She was absolutely convinced there was a murderer after her. Maybe it was his turn to take a leap of faith, as JJ had done with Carrie in the stalker case, or as his whole team had done when Detective McGee had appeared. And there was also that connection with Gideon…

Reid nodded. "Yeah." Millie stared, trying to search his face for any identification on his face that he was telling a lie. "I believe you," he told her, with a little more conviction.

The tired girl actually smiled. It was the first time he had seen her smile. Granted, it was fragile and fleeting smile and looked oddly plastered on her face, but she had smiled. She walked back towards him and gave him one of her grocery bags.

The walked to her apartment on the tenth floor in silence. The agent kept his head down, but occasionally glanced at his companion. She appeared on edge, but she had relaxed slightly. He assumed it she found some comfort in his faith. Spencer knew how being ignored felt. He felt a twang of sympathy for her.

"I was planning on leaving Virginia." Her soft voice pierced through the silence between them. Reid raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised. "How come?"

"Because the DC police department won't believe me, nor the FBI, and I know he's out there. I know I'm next. I need to get out of here," she explained softly and hurriedly, as if the subject was too much for her to acknowledge. She avoided his stare and kept her eyes downcast.

"And your sister?"

Millie stopped in her tracks, but quickly resumed walking, biting her lip. "She's already gone…" she whispered so low, Spencer could hardly hear her. When they reached her apartment door, she drew in a sharp breath.

"Fourteen years ago, when I opened the door to my home, I saw my parents were dead," she whispered hoarsely. "That image, of the door opening to a bloody mess of my loved ones…it still haunts me." Reid closed his eyes briefly. "I'm right here. Nothing's going to happen to you, alright?"

He wasn't sure if she had heard him or just didn't acknowledge his words. She fumbled with the keys, muttering something that sounded like a prayer, and swung open the door.

Reid didn't miss the way she cringed before looking into the dark apartment.

She darted inside, turning on all the lights, and exhaled heavily.

"I guess…I might be a little too paranoid," she admitted, a small smile in her tone. She set her groceries on the table. "I'm sorry, agent, I never got your name," Mille called out to him as she made herself busy around the kitchen.

"Uh, Spencer Reid. You can just call me Spencer, if you'd like."

She glanced back at him, and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "Well Spencer, I'd really appreciate some company if you want to stay for dinner."

He nodded, fumbling with his thumbs. "Yeah, I could stay."

"Excellent." She handed him a plate and he was finally able to get a better look at her when she finally met his eyes. She still looked tired, but she was pretty. Her light brown hair framed her face in waves. Reid felt his face flush. "I'm going to go change," she stated, walking off to another room. "I hope you like raviolis."

He nodded. When she was gone, he began to observe her room. There were paintings everywhere, followed with certificates and diplomas with Amelia Hale's name on them. Reid could imagine Mille was a literature or art student. He'd seen the drawings that her friend had thrown down.

The deep crimson walls and the classy furniture in this compact apartment made Reid think they had grown accustomed to living alone together fairly well.

It appeared to him, Millie's sister was extremely well organized. He could tell Millie was the opposite by the way the kitchen was cluttered. Every painting was aligned perfectly and the many books on the bookshelf were stacked carefully.

One thing struck him as odd.

Reid walked over to the doormat, frowning slightly. A part of a footprint was printed on its brown surface, laced with traces of dried mud. He could have sworn it had been clean when they entered. He had even allowed himself to smile at the catchy phrase written on it. Reid was positive they weren't his footprints. Nor Millie's, her feet were smaller. He bent down and touched the faint stain. Looking at his fingers, fresh dirt was imprinted on them.

The footprint was facing to the door. Someone had left.

Before he could even call her name, someone screamed.

* * *

><p>JJ stormed into his office. "You need to come see this," she demanded, and walked right out. Hotchner excused himself from his phone conversation and followed her. On the flat screen TV, a news reporter was spewing details of a recent murder.<p>

**Body of a missing girl found in her sister's apartment.**

The camera zoomed in on two people. "Is that…?" started Morgan, who was watching intently with a dour face.

"That's Reid." He was shielding a sobbing girl from the reporters, evidently disconcerted. He kept his mouth shut, shoving through the media harshly while grabbing Millie's arm. He said something directed to the girl and she nodded through her tears and lowered her head even more. "She was right. Her sister really was missing," JJ muttered, rubbing her temples. "We should have taken her more seriously."

"There's nothing we could've done though," Hotch, who'd been watching the news intently, replied solemnly.

Rossi had just entered the department when Hotchner and JJ barged out, jogging towards the elevator. "What's going on?" the senior agent asked, puzzled. Hotchner shook his head.

"Looks like we made a mistake."

* * *

><p><em><span>Interrogation 2<span>. DC Police Department. 1:10 a.m, approximately 3 hours after body was discovered._

_Interrogation Room- Amelia Hale (victim), Michael Linton (detective)_

"Why was SSA Spencer Reid in your apartment?"

"I invited him over for dinner."

"And why?"

Millie peeled off a piece of her nail. "He told me he would help me find who took my sister. I wanted to talk to him."

"What makes you so sure he was sincere?"

She shrugged, not looking up. She felt the detective's annoyance.

"Spencer Reid might have been using you, Miss Hale. All her really wanted was to know of your connection with Agent Gideon, who had been his mentor in the past. He used your weaknesses against you." Millie failed to register a reaction.

"Tell me Miss Hale, what is exactly the nature of your relationship? Friends, secret lovers…?" Millie's gaze locked onto the detective's face. "Acquaintances," she replied flatly.

Detective Linton leaned forward and Millie leaned back, averting her eyes. She was fully aware she appeared as if she were hiding something. She didn't care at that moment. Her sister, all she had left, was dead.

"What were you doing before you found the body?"

"I was going to change my clothes," she mumbled. "They smelled of smoke because of my friend whom I was previously conversing with before encountering SSA Spencer Reid." She hoped the detective got confused at her sudden change of tone. "I had a guest and I was about to make dinner. As soon as I entered the bathroom, I knew something was off."

The detective scrutinized her. "How so?"

A strange feeling jabbed at her stomach. "The smell."

* * *

><p><em><span>Interrogation 1<span>. DC Police Department. 12:45 a.m, approximately 2 hours after body was discovered._

_Interrogation Room- Spencer Reid (witness), Michael Linton (detective)_

"Why were you with Amelia Hale?"

"I wanted to help her."

"Are you sure you didn't simply want to know her connection with Agent Gideon, who quit the FBI so suddenly?"

Spencer said nothing for a moment. "I won't deny I had mixed intentions," he whispered. "But none of them was to hurt Millie."

"_Amelia,_" the detective corrected, "is shut down completely. What made her invite you to her apartment?"

"I told her I believed her." Reid's bluntness was irritating the detective.

"Believed what, exactly?"

"That her parents' murderer had taken her sister."

"And just like that," the detective made a hand motion, "she opened up to you?"

Reid frowned. "I didn't say that. She hasn't opened up to anyone."

"What makes you say that?"

He shook his head. "She's damaged."

The detective spared no empathy. "Amelia's considerate. She knew whoever she was with would automatically become a victim of her parents' killer. Why did she let you into her apartment?" he continued.

"She invited me for dinner. She was frightened, scared, and paranoid. She needed someone at that moment. I got her to let me in by using her weaknesses against her. By telling her I believed what she did and also offering my company, she was too weak to decline such a comforting convenience." Spencer leaned forward, choosing his next words carefully. "Do you know what it's like to feel terrified, Detective Linton? Mil—Amelia had no doubt her sister was already gone and she had no doubt the killer was already targeting her. She and her sister have been recovering from a tragedy for fourteen years, and all of a sudden, it shows up again, taking another loved one with it."

The detective had no response to that. "It's not my job to express sympathy to victims. It's my job to find out what makes them victims," he stated lowly and walked out.

* * *

><p>"<em>What?"<em> Reid exclaimed, his voice hitching.

Hotch shook his head. "There's nothing we can do Reid. The DC Police have not invited us, and with one body, this is not a federal case," he explained, resting his elbows on his desk.

Reid swallowed. What could he say? Hotch raised a point. There was only one body and there was no tangible proof Millie was to be attacked next. He doubted the police's distrust in Millie would change. Spencer didn't believe they would protect her, or listen to her, at all.

"Reid, it's not alright for you to be involved so much in this." Hotchner sighed. "The detectives gave you a hard time because they thought you were involved with the victim. You have to remain objective. This man will be caught and I'm sure the police will handle the case just as well as we would."

And Spencer Reid actually believed him.


	3. Chapter 3

After a week or so, Reid didn't call Millie. Nor did he visit her.

The last time he had seen her was at the police station, placating her with tips on how to respond to the questioning detectives. She hadn't said a word to him, but she had managed to nod slowly, glassy eyes staring straight ahead.

After his conversation with Hotchner, he realized he was getting too attached to the victim. He couldn't let that happen. There were so many consequences of attachment. He knew that friendship with Millie would result in a horrid outcome. In the end, Spencer decided not to visit her, denying her the company that she probably needed.

He convinced himself it was for the best. Millie was, as Hotch said, in good hands. He shouldn't get involved. He'll end up doing more harm than good, just like with Adam Jackson. She didn't need his help, he told himself whenever he found his mind drifting onto her case.

It seemed like Millie was doing well, just by not showing up at the FBI anymore, not seeking assistance. He was glad she had gotten over the paranoia of a returned murderer. As for his belief that there was someone after her, he simply decided his judgment was clouded by his pity for the girl, leading him to say and think that he actually believed her. Her lack of visits relieved him. It made his distancing himself easier. But with relief came a pang of worry.

_Was she alright?_

The thought was evanescent. Spencer tried his hardest to not be so concerned.

There had been nothing on the news about the murderer of her sister or anything on the news involving her, for that matter. Reid didn't allow it to bother him.

He had repeated to himself these things for seven days, and in time, he slowly started to believe them.

That is, until someone called him.

Spencer was sitting at his desk, taking slow sips of his coffee. He was reading a paper on physics magic techniques.

Perhaps he could pull one off without his boss noticing. He glanced around quickly, looking for a target. Preferably a certain dark-skinned man with a penchant for teasing him. A chance to embarrass Morgan was the ultimate prize. Alas, he was not around.

He noticed JJ perusing her report on their last case. She would have to do. Interrupting him from his scheme-to-be, his phone vibrated. Not even looking at the caller I.D., he answered, "Hello?"

"Is this…" The caller stopped in mid-sentence.

Spencer watched as JJ reclined in her chair. She was hardly out of the office. Now was his chance.

The stranger calling him raked in what sounded like a sob. He was about to hang up, dismissing it as a prank call, when the caller continued, "S-Spencer?"

He blinked. "With whom am I speaking with?" he asked, frowning.

"It's…it's Millie.."

"What? How..how did you get my number?"

"Please help me," she said, ignoring his question, her breathing fumbling up her words on the other line. "Yeah, Spencer," a masculine voice cackled in the background. "Help her. Such a loyal friend you've proved to be. I must say your perseverance on helping victims astounds me. You see, Millie, love? You can't ever trust Feds." The voice dripped with icy sarcasm. Reid stood up, his mouth hanging slightly open. "What's happening?" he asked lowly.

"What's happening? So much for a genius, huh? Not even your I.Q. of 187 can deduce that something terrible is about to take place. Something you could have prevented." The voice paused, and someone screamed. Reid's face crinkled with horror.

_No._

"Oh well. I suppose I really should thank you. You've made my task so much easier." Before he could even say something, the caller hung up.

Reid looked at his phone for a second, and that's all the time he took to rationalize. A second, no more. He was already sprinting down endless flights of stairs by the time the team noticed he had disappeared.

The agent felt the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, an overwhelming feeling of dread tightening his gut. Spencer would never forgive himself if Millie was hurt. This was his fault. His phone rang several times and he did check it, but he didn't have time for Hotch's questions. Or Rossi's. Or Morgan's. Or JJ's.

He hoped his friends were right on his tail.

Reid sped through the roads, dodging passing cars sloppily. He missed a car passing alongside him by an inch. It didn't help he wasn't the best driver when it came to high-speed chases. When the daunting red light stopped all the cars that surrounded him, he shouted out in anger. He looked for a street name, his heart racing. He was so close. Her apartment building was right around the corner.

Spencer Reid had never been this impulsive. He always thought everything through. Somehow, his logic failed to stop him from racing out of his car, his feet barely touching pavement. The sound of Millie's grainy scream over the phone resonated in his head.

Reid was veiled with sweat by the time he arrived at Millie's apartment. "FBI!" he shouted at the doorman, not even giving him time to protest. He took the stairs again, his long legs taking three steps at a time. His eidetic memory didn't fail him like his reasonable side did. He found Millie's door and pounded on it hurriedly. "_FBI, open up!" _he barked. Never had Reid ever kicked down a door. He decided it was time he learned.

_Seven years ago, when I opened the door to my home, I saw my parents were dead._

…_it still haunts me._

The door swung open and he stumbled in, ignoring the jabbing pain in his ankle. His flashlight cut through the darkness. "Millie?" he yelled, swinging his flashlight around. "_Millie, where are you_?"

"H-Here…"

He swung his flashlight at a crumpled figure on the ground. A pool of blood surrounded her, staining her wooden floor. Reid didn't lower his gun. _Was he gone?_

He quickly turned on the lights, did a quick search of the three rooms, and instinctively shouted, "Clear."

Reid ran back to the victim, throwing down his gun. "H-Hey S-Spencer.." she breathed, coughing harshly. He crouched down beside her, slowly inspecting her wounds. Her face was battered, her eyes red and puffy. He flinched, looking away from her.

The guilt swallowed him whole.

The blood was seeping out of her left side and her thighs. He took off his sweater, pressing it tightly against her stomach, which was a significantly deeper wound.

"I'm here," he managed to say without his voice cracking completely.

"I know." Millie looked at him, a trace of a smile on her battered face. He pulled her up, carrying her bridal style. She bit back whimper of pain. "I'm so sorry," he choked out, inspecting her face.

"It's really dark," Millie said. He nodded, looking around frantically for someone to help. He shouted for help multiple times before he noticed she was tugging at his sleeve. He also noticed that it wasn't dark at all. All the lights were on.

"I can't…" she began, "_see._ I think I'm blind, Spencer."

Oh God, no.

Reid's knees weakened and his throat felt much too dry and tight for the following cry for help to be his own. "_Someone, call the cops!"_ he shouted desperately. His voice didn't seem loud enough, and he shouted again and again. "_I NEED A MEDIC!"_ Spencer cried.

The rest was a blur. He later realized the cops were already on their way by the time he had arrived at the apartment building. He found it difficult remembering what had occurred after Millie whispered that to him. He didn't remember that in two minutes, someone, he wasn't sure who, had helped him take Millie down. Nor did he remember that in five minutes, the ambulance and the police had flooded the parking lot. Or that in six minutes, someone had taken Millie from his arms. Or even that in seven minutes, he had familiar people crowd around him, asking him if he was alright, if he needed help, and what had happened.

He didn't remember anything really after seeing Millie's pained face tell him that she couldn't see anymore, which was rather odd for someone who remembers practically everything.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews and favorites! c: You're all too kind 3**

**And I _sincerely_ apologize for my lack of updating, I've been dealing with some personal stuff.**

**Enjoy another chapter! And review, if possible. ^-^**

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><p>"Hello, Miss Hale."<p>

Millie lifted up her head. To any other person, it might look like she had been crying. But she was just tired. And now there was an unfamiliar voice belonging to an unfamiliar person in her monotonous little room.

Then again, every voice she had been hearing for the past day has been unfamiliar to her. Everyone's voice was different and a smear of meaningless things. "Hello," she finally replied, folding her hands. She was dressed in a hospital gown and she wore a strained smile. A fake smile.

"My name is Sarah Lopez."

"And I'm Amelia Hale," she replied in a mocking tone, "but you tricky therapists already know that, don't you?" Millie picked at her nail, her expression almost statue-like.

The woman looked taken aback. "I'm here to make sure you are—"

The girl tilted her head, her soft eyes narrowed. "What? Coping? Is this some sort of physical or mental therapy?"

Sarah Lopez blinked. The coldness in the girl's voice had surprised her. For the first time, she actually wished the girl was reduced to uncontrollable sobbing rather than rendering acid replies. Instead of wallowing in an uncomfortable silence, she opened her mouth to speak. "I'm just here to make sure you are recovering well and responding to your visual treatment decently."

"What treatment?" Millie asked, to no one in particular. "All the medics have done is stitch me up. I'm not stupid, Mrs. Lopez. I know perfectly they cannot restore my vision. It's agonizingly idiotic how everyone keeps dodging my question whenever I ask about being permanently blind. Hell, I think they even put a few drops of water in my eyes and pretended like it was a _remedy_!" She spat out the last few words, clenching her fists so that her knuckles turned white.

She was blind, she could not see any longer. Yet the doctors refused to tell her that she had lost her vision. And the police were no help at all, forcing her to answer questions. They had made her relive that moment. Her assault, her beating.

And the last face she had seen was _his._

Yellow teeth shining in the darkness, stench of cologne flooding her nostrils. Millie suddenly sucked in a large amount of air, desperately trying to escape the memory. Her impromptu inhalation caused a series of harsh coughs.

Mrs. Lopez simply stared at the girl. "So…I take it your wounds are healing well, then?"

* * *

><p>The second worst thing about being blind and temporarily hospitalized was the lack of things to do. Millie sat in her bed for hours, forced to stare into darkness. The soft pitter-patter of the rain echoed in her quiet room. She tried focusing on listening to the hallways but everything seemed to be an infinite swirl of panic and sirens.<p>

She shut her eyes and quickly opened them again after seeing darkness. She wasn't quite used to closing her eyes and seeing the same black than she did when they were open.

The door opened. Millie sighed and stretched out her swollen arm, expecting another blood test.

"Uh, excuse me, miss."

Millie raised her head. In her spare time, she had tried to memorize the voices of her doctors and nurses. This voice wasn't one she was used to. "Who..?"

"Agent Anderson, with the FBI."

"Oh." She held back a grimace but made sure her response was as cold as she could muster. More questions about a memory she was trying to forget. And it was hard to do when one is incarcerated in a hospital room with nothing to accomplish except listen to people in the ER go about their daily routine of saving one's life or failing to do so.

"What do you want?" She didn't keep the hostility from her voice. She had had enough of questions. She wasn't going to cooperate this time, no matter what guilt tactics they used on her.

Agent Anderson cleared his throat. "I've been told to escort you to the FBI building."

"Oh? Well I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm actually very tired and—wait." The girl in the hospital gown's eyes snapped wide open, startling the agent. "_What?"_

Anderson rubbed the back of his neck in confusion. "You've been released and put under federal protection. You know, from your attacker."

She hardly held back her smile. But it wasn't the fact that they were doing something about her assaulter that stretched her lips upwards. She had given up that hope when the police suggested the criminal was a boy her sister had rejected. Or maybe it was when she called Spencer four times before she went home to find that monster waiting for her, and he didn't pick up any of her calls.

But a chance to escape this jail cell? Is that what was being offered? "Where are we going?"

"To the BAU room. The team would like to ask you a few questions and then one of the agents will be taking you to a hotel room, where people will take shifts watching over you." Millie listened intently. She would have to abandon her initial plan to not cooperate. What the agent was offering was much more important. Freedom from therapists and their scribbling, from nurses with honey sweet words that eventually caused you to gag because you heard them so often, and freedom from the very room she wasn't allowed to leave.

She was still blind, however. She was not sure how that would work. "Do you have seeing arrangements for—"

Agent Anderson nodded rapidly, remembered she couldn't see him, and said, "Yes. A seeing-eye canine has been provided for you. It's waiting for you outside."

Millie sat up and the agent stepped closer. "Are you sure we can just leave?"

Anderson thought for a minute, about the possible paperwork that had to be filled out about insurance and medication. He grimaced. He would handle it later. He wasn't just a pretty face, after all. "Of course." He took her hand gently, handing her a black go-bag. "Can you get changed alone?"

Millie thought about it and decided she would resort to feeling the texture of the clothes to put them on properly. "Sure..."

"I'll wait for you. Hurry up now, the BAU's kind of rushing to get the final details of the murder. They need you."

She hung her head slightly and sighed. "Right."

* * *

><p>The media liaison's presence in the police department caused a bit of an uncomfortable stir. She had purposefully dressed professionally and wore a stern look on her face. Hotchner had instructed her to use all methods of persuasion to get this case. And she intended to.<p>

JJ shut her umbrella down sharply, sending droplets of rain flying everywhere. She did her best to ignore the confused whispers beginning to emerge. "I need to speak with Detective Sanders. Now." The young police officer didn't hesitate. "Right this way, ma'am."

The officer left her at the door, his curiosity letting him linger by the door for a minute, but after catching JJ's frown, he thought better of it. She knocked on the door to Detective Sanders' office impatiently. A muffled voice rang out, "Come in."

She did, right as he slammed down the telephone. JJ shut the door, folding her arms. "May I help you?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. You can. I'm Jennifer Jareau, media liaison for the FBI," she clarified grimly. "I've come to ask you if you'd like any federal help on Briana Hale's murder and Amelia Hale's rape and assault."

The detective leaned back, folding his hands on his bulging stomach. "That's nice of you to offer, but we're doing just fine, Mrs Jareau."

She frowned, looking skeptical. "Do you have any suspects, Detective Sanders?"

"Not yet. I don't see why you need to know that." He scribbled something down on a memopad. JJ resisted the urge to glare. She didn't have a reason to get that serious yet.

"Detective Sanders. You've been handling this case for well over a week, and in the time, you've found no suspects?"

"We've conducted several questionings and sent people out into the street to dig up some information about these Hale sisters. Word has it that Briana, the eldest, turned down a boy's offer to a dance once. Just so happens that boy is a gang member."

JJ could hardly hold back a laugh. "You think this is the work of a _gang member?_ With all due respect, sir, it seems you haven't quite taken into account the menacing communication between the unsub and the sisters. Not to mention, you allowed for a potential victim to be left _alone_, thus enabling the unsub to _rape_ her, _beat _her, and _blind_ her," she almost snarled at him.

The detective stood up. "We are perfectly capable of handling this case on our own," he replied, trying to retain composure. "We had no evidence that this would happen to Amelia."

"I'm sure you are, detective, but please, let us help you and no one else has to get hurt," JJ said, leaning forward. "We will advise you on the right measures to take and you will conduct the arrests. Or do you want more victims?"

She waited for the man to snap back and make her leave. She had definitely taken note of his stubbornness and short temper. However, instead Detective Sanders closed his eyes for a minute, placing a hand over his forehead. "Did the bastard really…blind her?" he inquired softly. JJ couldn't tell if it was curiosity or if he actually cared. "Yes he did, detective. And he made sure the last thing she ever saw was his face."

After a moment of careful consideration, the detective nodded. "You've got your case, Agent Jareau."

* * *

><p>Agent Anderson couldn't help but smile at the girl's new adoration for the black German Shepard.<p>

He found himself glad that she couldn't see the beast, because the dog belonged in no puppy food commercial with those sharp fangs and a set of different colored eyes. His fur was ruffled and a piece of his ear seemed to be missing. The dog handler must have been all too eager to give him up. He was all bite and bark.

Oddly enough, Millie didn't seem to mind when the dog nabbed at her. She just rubbed the bite and set a hand on the dog's head, earning her a half-hearted growl. Now the dog just seemed calm, and maybe a bit confused at the attention and coos he was getting from Millie.

"Is she alright?" Hotchner asked on the other line. Anderson glanced at the rearview mirror and found himself relieved she was actually smiling, as she stroked the dog's head. "Yeah, she seems like it. The dog really did it for her."

"Good. Bring her in as soon as possible. And don't let her out of your sight."

"Right." Anderson flipped his phone shut.

Millie had been paying close attention to the conversation, but had disguised it with her smiles. She actually had considered escaping, but she wasn't stupid. She didn't have complete trust in the dog yet, or the agent driving the car, for that matter.

As of right now she was blind, sore, and emotionally exhausted. She would endure a few more questionings, then she would slip away. But where would she go? Millie blinked, pondering if she should seek the Witness Protection Program. She could start all over. Evade the killer.

She smiled to herself.

A fresh start. She needed that.


	5. Chapter 5

**First off, I'm extremely sorry for the unannounced hiatus of sorts?**

**To make up for it, I've tried to add a long chapter. Unfortunately, my heart really isn't in the story much anymore, but for the few who want to read, here you are.**

* * *

><p>Spencer took a large swig of coffee, blinking rapidly. He groaned inwardly and rubbed his eyes. He really shouldn't be this tired.<p>

"Whoa, slow down there, kid." His head jerked up as he saw Morgan grinning at him, stopping to get his own coffee. The boy genius gave him a weak smile, hoping he wouldn't see how exhausted he was. Of course, Derek Morgan didn't miss it. "Didn't get enough sleep last night?"

"I didn't sleep at all."

Morgan set the coffee pitcher down, staring at him. He was aware that his colleague was having a hard time coping with what happened to Amelia Hale, or Millie, as Reid seemed to insist. But he didn't realize it struck him that hard. "You know it's not your fault, Reid," the agent told him slowly, thinking carefully about how to approach this.

Spencer, set his cup down, a small knot forming in his throat as he shook his head. "You know what Morgan, I want to believe that. But I was fully aware that she would be staying alone, yet I-I distanced myself from her. I could have protected her." _It was selfish, and stupid._

"You didn't know that the unsub would come and attack her. Now, stop blaming yourself."

Spencer nodded, keeping his eyes downcast. "I _should've_ known," he muttered, turning away from Morgan. He didn't give his friend a chance to reply. "What do we have so far?"

Morgan blinked. Deciding he would bring it up later, he sighed. "Garcia pulled some footage from the security cameras on Millie's apartment. He came in and picked the lock around 7:00 pm. She came back thirty minutes after."

The younger agent frowned slightly. "So he knew exactly when she would come back."

"It's also possible he was following her around for the day until she was heading back home. He beat her to it."

Reid narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, but this unsub is precise, meticulous. He's stalked her before, he knows her schedule."

Morgan nodded. "So, what's this guy's motive? Dominance, revenge?"

"He kept her alive deliberately." Spencer's breath caught for a minute. "He wants her to suffer." The other agent opened his mouth, looking concerned. Reid continued, "You should rule out the probability of the unsub's target being anyone else for the most part. It's most likely she antagonized him in some form in the past."

"You don't think she might be a surrogate?"

"It may be possible. But he has definitely suffered a significant loss, so significant, in fact, that he hasn't let it go, no, _refuses_ to let it go."

"Are you saying this is the same unsub that killed her parents, then?" Morgan leaned against the coffee counter, a dubious look on his face.

Spencer blinked. "It would mean a long hiatus, which is improbable, unless he did jail time or another event that caused him to postpone his attacks. Has Hotch sent anyone to go to the police station and get the files of her parents' murder and Briana Hale's? We should really look over the M.O." He rubbed his temple, the coffee beginning to take effect.

Derek checked his watch, and sipped his own beverage. "Actually, JJ's already there persuading the cops to let us advise them. Rossi and I are going to have another look at Amelia's assault scene." He snuck a glance at Reid. "You and Hotch are going to have to interview her in a few."

_What?_

"What?" Spencer stared at Derek, incredulous. "We're going to her? While she's still healing?" He turned to him, his messy emotions beginning to bubble up and he opened his mouth to object.

"_Was_ healing, Spencer," a soft voice corrected him. He froze.

Millie stood a few yards away from him, her rare smile on her face.

He also noticed the menacing looking beast at her side with a vest on.

The dog growled dauntingly, baring his white teeth. "Down, boy," Millie crooned to the dog, lowering her empty gaze and placing a hand on his neck. The dog begrudgingly stopped, nipping her hand slightly.

The blood rushed to his face and Spencer leaned on the wall to steady himself. What was he supposed to say to her? _Sorry for not being there to protect you? Sorry for letting you get blinded? Sorry for ignoring you but I thought it was for the best?_

None of those were acceptable.

"Did you know 45 million people are blind in this world?" he blurted out.

His face felt hot and his stomach twisted itself in a knot. A tight boy-scout knot he had learned from his high school tormenters. _You idiot._

But she giggled. Millie Hale giggled. "No, I didn't know that," she told him, taking a few steps closer, the dog guiding her.

"This is Droog." As if on cue, Droog growled louder. "He's not as bad as he looks."

"Droog?"

"You know. From A Clockwork Orange." Spencer would've grimaced under other circumstances at another reference to the movie. But he just stared blankly at her.

Millie shifted uncomfortably and waved a hand in front of her. "Hello?"

Spencer shook his head slightly, her voice cutting through his examination of her face.

He didn't think. He dismissed the fact the Morgan was watching their confrontation. Maybe it was because she reminded him of his mother when he visited her at the psychiatric institution. Trying to act like he hadn't betrayed her.

"I-I'm really sorry, Millie."

Millie's foggy brown eyes widened slightly, taken aback for a millisecond, but she tried to smile. "Oh, uh…it's alright, Spencer. It wasn't your fault." The evenness in her voice surprised him.

Reid closed his eyes. He had hoped to get past her cover she was putting up. The way she shifted uncomfortably, her hands were clenching and unclenching repeatedly. She wasn't as 'alright' as she said she was, he knew that. She probably contained so many emotions in her. Why? Deciding it was unnecessary to say anything, he smiled tightly. "Right."

Hotchner cleared his throat. Spencer snapped out of his thoughts and stepped away from the girl sheepishly. "Miss Hale, I'm Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. We've met before. It's a pleasure to see you again."

The younger agent watched carefully as Millie gritted her teeth together a little and nodded. "Likewise, Agent Hotchner. Unfortunately, the circumstances have not changed much, have they?"

Spencer's gaze locked onto her face. Millie seemed to catch the bitterness in her tone and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, my attitude isn't helping much is it?" Her eyes betrayed her smile.

"No, it's alright. I'm…extremely sorry for what occurred to you, if there's anything—"

He stopped as Millie bowed her head, her little smile fading. "Please, don't. It isn't your fault, don't worry about it." Aaron gave her a curt nod, remembered she couldn't see him, and cleared his throat. "If it's alright with you, we'd like to ask you a few questions Miss Hale." Millie cocked her head to one side. "If that's what it takes to catch him, I'd be alright with it." Spencer knew she really didn't mean it. She was hiding behind a defense shield, playing along as the victim. She couldn't possibly be "alright" with any of this.

His heart pounded loudly as her eyes seemed to settle on him. "Oh, uh, you should probably follow me—"

Spencer looked away, reaching for her arm to help guide her. Millie flinched noticeably and her cheeks flushed. "Thank you, but I think I could make it there," she told him gently. "I've got Droog, after all."

"R-Right." _Outdone by a dog._

Hotchner, who had been watching them with concerned eyes, beckoned for Reid to come along. As they stationed themselves in the interview room, Millie hesitantly took a seat.

"If at any point you feel uncomfortable during the interview, please don't falter to tell us," Hotch explained to her and she wet her lips and nodded.

Spencer eyed her curiously, the gears in his mind whirring, every move she made he noticed. He wasn't sure why her real emotions interested him so much. Maybe it was so he could find out if she really did blame him for what he'd done or not. "I know this is hard, but every detail is absolutely important. Try to remember what you were doing before he came in," Aaron said, the look on his face patient.

"He didn't come in," Millie said slowly, shutting her eyes. Reid watched her, frowning as he searched her face. "He was…waiting. I had decided to take my mind off the stress with the police by painting something on canvas when I noticed across the hall, my sister's door was ajar.

"I had it closed at all times after the crime scene investigators had finished looking through it. I couldn't bear to see it open. It reminded me of her, and I was trying my best to cope. So I had it closed." Millie took a pause, drawing in a small breath. The younger agent struggled, unsure if her feelings were genuine. This girl was giving him a headache. "I got closer to her room and I didn't even step a foot inside when something hit the back of my head. I didn't pass out, because he didn't swing hard enough, I guess. But I remember being dizzy…" she trailed off. Droog lied down onto the floor, his ears perked.

"You're doing great, Amelia, keep going," Hotch encouraged. Millie laughed bitterly but continued, "I remember the coldness of my floor…and the smell. He smelled awful. Like, some sort of expensive cologne. Too much of it. I felt intoxicated. He was on top of my back, pressing me down…then he started talking to me…"

"What did he say?" Spencer asked her. "Is that really important?" Millie nearly snapped, and immediately raised a hand to her mouth.

Reid winced. "You don't have to if you don't want to," he interjected swiftly, cutting off her apology and walking to her other side.

Hotchner shot him a look. "It would be helpful to us," the unit chief clarified. Millie nodded after hesitating.

"The first thing he said while uh…touching me.." Millie cleared her throat. "He said, 'Look at you, all grown up. Your mother must be so proud of you.' Then he laughed in my ear, and his breath smelled like alcohol. I started crying and I tried to scream but he pressed a knife against my arm. He said if I screamed, he would kill me.

"But that didn't matter much to me, I screamed anyway. He sliced my arm at that point and covered my mouth. Then, he whispered, if I screamed again, then he would kill every single one of the people I cared about. He said he'd make them go through the same thing I did." Reid was listening thoughtfully, but his eyes were clenched shut. "So I shut up. After that, he made me make a phone call. He said it would be to let Spencer know what he'd…caused." She bit her lip and Spencer grimaced.

"And then he said, 'I'll make you feel great, just like I made your mom and your sister feel.' That's when he started…"

Hotch frowned. "Did he say anything while..?"

Millie looked up, frowning. Reid scowled at his colleague. "_Not necessary_," he hissed. Hotch ignored him. Millie took a shaky breath. "He wanted me to…let him..but I couldn't...so, he started cutting my legs. He told me 'prove to me that you're a woman..' he slapped me and kept repeating that as he raped me. He kept telling me that I loved it…" Millie clenched her fists. "When he finished, he asked me to look at him. I had my eyes shut so tight..he hit me again, two times, three times until I finally screamed that I didn't want to look at him, that I didn't want to see him ever again so he should just kill me.."

"You..antagonized him?"

"I snapped…I know it was a mistake. Because he picked me up and threw me across the room. He was on top of me so fast again, and he forced me to look at him or he'd rape me again..so I opened my eyes, and the last thing I saw was his face before he dropped that liquid in both my eyes.." She furiously wiped away a stray tear. Reid watched her, almost ready to hit something. _Was what she had just explained really her true opinion? _"Is that it?" Millie asked softly. Droog sank his head into her lap, nudging her hand.

Hotchner stood, her jaw tight. "You did well, Miss Hale. Thank you, I would appreciate it if you stayed a while longer with us. To aid us in this investigation." Millie nodded quickly. "Yes, of course…"

The unit cheif stood up to leave and Reid took his place, reaching out to the weeping girl. "I'm..I'm so sorry…" Reid whispered to her, taking her hand. Millie turned her face to him, her eyes vacantly staring away. "You shouldn't be sorry…" Her hand moved away from his and she stood as well, her dog shadowing her movements. "I…need some air."

* * *

><p><em>What am I doing?<em>

Millie leaned on the sink of the bathroom stall, splashing icy water onto her face. She had certainly _not_ intended to give the agents, that much information. Not to mention all those emotions that were choking her up.

And Spencer.

What was she supposed to think of him? He abandoned her when she needed him. The one person that believed her, that she was supposed to trust.

He had given her hope.

She shook her head wildly, taking a paper towel and rubbing it on her face. She needed to leave.

"Are you alright in there, Miss Hale?"

She scowled slightly. How would she evade an FBI escort? "I-I'm alright, thank you." Deliberately, her voice quivered.

Millie exited her stall, greeting her accompanying agent with a tiny smile. The woman smiled back, handing her Droog's leash. "There you go."

The gears in her mind whirring, Millie held onto Droog's leash and he led her to the door to exit the bathroom. Once they were outside, Millie wheezed, making a few coughs. She sagged against the wall, gasping for breath. The woman frowned, running to her side. "Are you alright, Amelia? What's wrong?"

"I, I need my medication…" Millie wheezed. "L-Left my purse in th-the bathroom.."

The female agent stood, panic crossing her angular features. "Stay right here, I'll be back in a second."

As the door closed behind her, Millie sprang to her feet. She urged Droog with the commands Anderson had told her. "Exit." She tugged on his collar. "We need to leave!"

He wasn't responding. Millie cursed under her breath. She could already hear the agent slamming the bathroom stall doors. "_Move!"_ she hissed and the dog sprang into action. She yelped in surprise and they bolted towards another hallway, Millie's eyes widening as she followed him. Past the noise of people's voices, she heard her name being called faintly.

_Shit._ She felt them turn a sharp corner and prayed the agent had not seen them. Suddenly, Droog halted and Millie almost tripped over him. Someone bumped into her. "Whoa, sorry." Stumbling, Millie grabbed at the stranger, regaining balance. "No, no, my fault, sorry," she mumbled. Realizing she was holding onto a stranger, she let go instantly.

"Where's the exit?" The man seemed to notice her dog and told her, "Make a right from here, then forward."

Blood pounding, Millie's hand searched for Droog's snout. "Right, then forward. _Right, forward."_

Droog started to run towards the right, then after a few seconds of sprinting, he pulled her into an abrupt turn. Instinctively, she held her hands out until glass met her hands and the door automatically opened. The adrenaline pumping, Millie smiled to herself, panting softly. Pleased, she let Droog guide her out of the building.

_Now how does a blind person find her house and get to Witness Protection Program?_

* * *

><p>"<em>Gone?<em>" Hotchner fumed.

Agent Simmone winced, her cheeks a bright red. "Sh-she pretended she was about to pass out! She told me her medication was in the bathroom stall!" She looked around at Hotchner and Reid, exasperated. "When I came out, about to ask about her mysterious, nonexistent purse, she was gone!"

"How do you lose a blind girl?" Reid asked incredulously.

Simmone glared at him. "I don't know where she went," she continued, "but I've alerted the staff."

Hotchner shook his head. "Good. Agent Simmone, your responsibility was to make sure Amelia was safe."

"But, _sir_—"

"You do realize the unsub could have taken her."

Slowly putting the pieces together, Reid thought aloud, "No, that's not it. The unsub is avoiding apprehending us in any way, he wouldn't risk coming here. On the contrary, Millie escaped on her own accord. The event has damaged her, made her believe she has to toughen up. She was never planning to help us. She was acting as the victim to give us what we wanted, now she's gone."

"So she doesn't trust us?"

"No, she doesn't." Reid glanced at the unit chief. "She's handling things herself. Because we haven't listened to her before, she believes that nothing can help, not even us. In fact, in the interview, she made it sound as if she were sad and coping when she's really pained. Angry. Vulnerable."

Hotch considered this, then turned to Agent Simmone, his eyes dark and stern. "I want her found, ASAP," he growled and cocked his head, dismissing her. She slipped away, her face still an embarrassed red. He turned back to Reid, who was slipping on his coat. "Where are you going?"

"Outside," he replied, and began dialing Garcia's number. "Garcia? I need you to track a cell phone for me."

* * *

><p>It was dark. Millie was tired.<p>

She sat in a coffee shop, sipping an expresso. She had been planning to find the U.S. Marshall Service, but she decided she would stay up a while longer and do it the next day. She was tired, in the mood for silence and peace.

Alone with her thoughts.

Millie shook her head, breathing deeply. That was the last thing she wanted to think about. Not the FBI, not _him_, not anything besides how good the coffee was. How badly she wanted to see.

She was trying to grow accustomed to seeing with her ears. It was difficult, the coffee shop was a bundle of voices and noises. Droog nudged her hand and she smiled.

"Is this seat taken?"

Millie looked up startled. She sounded like a woman. "Not really, no."

She heard the seat scratch the floor's surface with an irritating squeak. "Hm, long night huh?" Millie relaxed slightly. She really did want someone to talk to. "Tell me about it." The woman laughed. "I'm Annette. You?"

"Millie." She smiled at the woman. "Millie Hale."

"The artist?" Annette laughed softly. "I love your work, dear! You've really become a major hit in my house."

Millie's eyes widened. "Really?" She missed painting. She'd been good at it, winning state recognition and earning a nice profit.

"Of course! So tragic though, about your, ah.."

"Handicap?" Millie's smile turned sour. "I know."

Silence lingered in between them for a few minutes. "How did it..?" Annette began and shook her head, a nervous laugh erupting. "I'm sorry, I'm being so insensitive."

"No, it's fine. It was an accident, someone accidentally slipped a chemical into my eyes, seared into them." Annette gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Millie waved a hand. "I'm coping."

Across from her the woman sighed, "What a tragedy. I hope that bastard rots. Stalking you, then blinding you? Horrific."

"Yeah, me t…" she trailed off. "Stalking?" Millie frowned. "I never said anything about stalking." A sick feeling began forming in her stomach,

"Dear, the media—"

_The media hasn't released anything about a stalker._ Millie stood. "I have to go.."

She felt the woman sigh. "Oh, come now—"

"No, I really need to g—" A hand gripped her sleeve. "_Hello, lovely_."

The two muttered words hung heavy in the air for a few seconds.

Everything snapped back into reality when Droog barked twice, his tail erect. The hand slackened at the dog's barking and she took off, narrowly missing tables and chairs. Droog took the lead, howling boisterously. She pushed open the door and ran. She ran, bumping into civilians and benches. "Sorry, I'm sorry," she shouted out at the people she bumped into, who were far behind her by the time she had apologized. She didn't stop, she wasn't even sure how far she ran until she heard cars honking and Droog stopped and backtracked so she wouldn't run into the speeding cars. Heart racing, she felt tears coming on.

Had that woman been an accomplice? Was that that man following her?

She began to sob as a voice behind her called. "Millie! Wait!"

"_Stop!" _she screamed and poised herself to run again, ordering Droog to make a left. Accidentally tripping over Droog's leash, she shrieked, stumbling to the ground. Millie gasped and opened her mouth, "_Hel—"_

"_Millie!_" A different voice. She recognized that scent. It wasn't the scent of cologne. Instead, the smell of coffee and books.

"Spencer?" she whispered, more tears spilling. "God, how did you—?"

"Turn off your cell phone before you escape out of FBI custody next time." Two arms wrapped around her waist, and Millie closed her eyes, leaning against his chest. "God, Spencer, he was there." Her eyes shot open and she struggled against him, gripping his arm. "We've got to get out of here, Spencer!"

He was silent and she assumed he was frowning in confusion. "Who?"

"_Him._ There was a woman, too, Spencer, holy crap." Rubbing her eyes, she shuddered. "She said she knew about the stalking," Millie stammered, choking on her tears. "_The media reporters didn't say anything about a stalker,_ Reid."

She felt a hand travel to her back as he helped her up. "It's late Millie. You should rent a hotel room, or I'll bring you back to the FBI.."

She shook her head wildly. "_No._ I'm not going back there."

"But, Millie.." Hotch had ordered him to bring her back.

"I'm not ready, Spencer, I don't want to be there right now, _no._"

He sighed, closing his eyes for a minute. She was scared. She didn't want to be questioned. One look at her face confirmed it all.

"You can stay at my place." He winced as he said it. What was he doing, inviting the victim over?

_Well, it's not like she has anywhere else to go, Reid. Do you really want her to be alone with that creep on the loose? Leave her again?_ Spencer rubbed his temple. "Yeah, you can spend the night," he repeated.

Millie shook her head. "He's going to follow, Reid."

Spencer sighed. "According to the profile we've gathered so far, he won't apprehend us yet. He's trying to stay clear of law enforcement, we know this because he hasn't come up to any of us. Communication is big with him, he contacted me once through the phone, but that was to taunt. However, lately, he hasn't been communicating with law enforcement or even you. He knows you're under our protection, otherwise, he would have targeted us. Not to mention caused something with the media. It's possible he may have gotten in trouble with police before and he's afraid they'll recognize him." He glanced at her and his throat tightened. "I won't let him come near you, Millie. Don't worry."

"So you're not going to get my hopes up and leave me?" Millie blinked, wiping her tears with her sleeve. "I'm taken into police custody and that's safe enough right? What did you tell yourself, Spencer, that he wouldn't come after me because I was with the police for a day? Did you even believe me to begin with or did I just have information you wanted?"

Each word felt like a pounding to his stomach. He gritted his teeth together slightly. "You never showed up, you never bothered to contact me. How was I supposed to—"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Spencer. Don't, just _don't_. You, great profiler, know better than anyone else how vulnerable I was. When you offered me that one little speck of hope, I fell for it completely. You offered me someone that would help, and my hope just dropped out of my life when I _needed_ it the most. The police, you honestly thought they would help, Spencer?" She laughed hoarsely. "Can you imagine my face when they told me that it was impossible my parents' murderer was still after me? When I told them that I could prove it to them because I had an FBI profiler rooting for me? I told them I could prove it when I went to go find you but you weren't there, Spencer. You weren't there, they told me you left. They told me to go home, and I did. Where was I supposed to go? Get my hopes up again with the FBI that turned me down? Scared out of my mind, I left to go home, afraid to leave to go find you, _hoping_ you would come to follow up on me. But it didn't happen, and guess where that left me."

"I was getting to attached…I knew I would have just messed it all up, it always happens, Millie."

She shook her head, her cheeks flushed. "No. You should have been there and messed it up anyway, it would have been worse than not being there at all. Look what that cost me Spencer." Millie jabbed to fingers over her face.

He lowered his head. "I knew you blamed me."

"I-I don't know, Spencer okay? I'm just…upset and confused and scared, I just..I don't know.."

Reid grabbed at her hand, expecting her to flinch away. She did. "Just…I'm sorry, Millie. I won't let it happen again, I won't deceive myself, you, anyone else. I promise I'll make it up to you, you'll feel safe again, I promise."

In that moment, she wasn't too sure which hurt more, the thought of being alone or his promise.

* * *

><p>"<em>Stalker<em>?"

Sofie cringed. "It was a mistake, Robert. I slipped up," she tried to say.

He roared in anger and punched the wall. His hand slipped through the thin material and Sofie stood. "What is your obsession with this girl, Rob?" she cried. She didn't have to ask. She knew what she was to him.

Robert glared at her and made his way over to his wife.

"Don't. Don't even."

Sofie looked away, tears spilling onto her cheeks. "You sick fuck," she muttered. "You _rapist!_" Robert looked at her and struck her across the face. "Shut up."

"Ever since Angelica…"

"DON'T YOU EVEN FUCKING MENTION HER," he roared, raised his hand again. Sofie twitched, elevating her arms to protect her face. Robert lowered his hand slowly, his expression softening. "I'm sorry, Sofie. I'm sorry alright? I just need her to suffer a little but more, alright? I'm almost done, and when this is over, we can have that happy life you wanted for us."

Sofie wiped her eyes as Robert twirled a piece of her golden hair in his finger and kissed her on the forehead. "It'll all be over?" Sofie asked softly. Robert pulled in against his chest. "Yes. All of it."

"Alright."


	6. Chapter 6

Millie reached for the water handle and turned the shower water off. The absence of the hot water caused a shiver down her spine and she reached for a white towel, pressing its fluffy texture against her face as she sighed contently.

She had _really_ needed a shower.

She slipped out of the tub carefully and tied the towel around her chest. With slow steps, Millie reached the cold doorknob, twisted, and opened it. "Spencer?"

No answer. She frowned, her heart picking up speed in a matter of seconds. "Spence? Are you there?" _God, I knew this was a mistake, I lead him right here, Jesus, what have I done?_ She looked around the bathroom wildly, looking for a weapon of some sort. "_Spencer?"_

"Right here."

She blinked and turned around, relief jolting through her and a little smile came up on her face. "Dammit, Spencer, you scared me."

He smiled back; a mixture of apology and tiredness. "Sorry, um, here's a change of clothes. I managed to find an old t-shirt of mine and some of my mom's old sweatpants."

Millie raised an eyebrow, eyeing the clothes. "Does your mom live here?"

He shook his head. "No, it's just," Spencer scratched his head, "I sort of keep everything. I don't throw stuff away often." Millie looked at him. He was strange. It was hard to believe he worked for the FBI.

She took the clothes gently. "Thanks, Spence."

He nodded, a small blush lingering on his cheeks. "Y-you should probably put them on now."

Millie blinked and looked down at her towel wrapped tightly around her. "Oh, right." She laughed nervously and shut the door.

Spencer ran a hand through his hair and turned around quickly, unsure of what to think. If his team found out he was getting this close to a victim, he would be slaughtered. Lectured by Hotch and Strauss and teased by Morgan until the end of time.

His thoughts were cut short by the beast incarnated into dog form barking.

Reid strode over to his kitchen and glanced at him, pressing a finger to his lips. Droog barked again and trotted over to his bowl and whined. Getting the hint, Spencer filled his food bowl with leftover raviolis and hoped he wouldn't throw them up afterwards. He glanced at the Chinese take-in he had ordered and flicked on the TV. It was just then he realized his apartment was a mess. And he had an actual female over. Though she was blind, she would surely realize the mess he had.

Hurriedly, Reid gathered a stack of papers off the couch, pushing them into a drawer. Moving all his books to another table, he grabbed a towel, rapidly wiping the table stains and swatting dust away from furniture.

"Is that Chinese take-out I smell?"

Millie was smiling a little and he tried to laugh as he discreetly left the towel in the kitchen. Droog walked over to her, nudging her hand. "There's enough for two. I figured we could talk over noodles and fortune cookies." He had spent some time debating on how to get her to loosen up, relax, and hopefully feel more compelled to come back to the team later.

But then he'd realized how that would have been cruel, seeing as how her emotional stability should come before the case.

"Sounds nice." She reached out, feeling her way over to the table, Droog settling himself under the table. "Talk about what?"

Spencer thought for a second. She didn't want _that_ subject, so that was off limits. "Anything, I guess. Your life, my life. Hobbies, academics."

He watched as she seemed to relax. "Cool." As he opened her box, she sat down, her wet hair soaking a bit of Reid's t-shirt. "I appreciate this, Spencer. It's really nice of you." She offered him a smile and he shrugged.

"It's the least I can do. Besides, we've yet to hold an actual conversation."

"You're right." She picked up her chopsticks, picking at her food and placing some noodles into her mouth. "So."

"How do you do that?"

She blinked, puzzled. "What? Do what?"

He seemed irked. "The chopsticks."

"What, you don't know how?" Millie laughed, sensing his surprise.

"I mean, it's two sticks, it's a pretty complicated feat, Millie," he replied stubbornly. She snorted and shook her head. "Look, boy genius, you just place your finger under this stick, like this. See, and then you kind of flex your other one over the second stick. You try."

She waited for a while and heard something clatter onto the floor.

"I've never had good coordination, in my defense."

Millie grinned. "Oh? You must be a pretty bad shot then."

"Well, once I was put into a situation where I had to shoot someone but missed by almost a meter."

Her jaw slackened. "That seems like a worthwhile story. Go on."

Happy to see her loosening up, Reid didn't miss a beat. "An LDSK killer." He glanced at her and opened his mouth to explain.

"Long—"

"Long distance serial killer?" She tapped her fingers against the table. "I watch a lot of crime shows," she admitted, then her brow furrowed. "Watched."

Spencer pressed his lips together, rubbing the back of his neck. Her smile had faded. "Would you like to know what occurred in the investigation?"

Millie popped a piece of shrimp into her mouth. "Sure."

"It was in Des Plaines, Illinois. We got called in because a sniper was sporadically targeting people in broad daylight. That was also the day I had failed my gun qualification test so I had to work without a gun."

Her eyes widened. "Wow. How did you shoot the killer then?"

Spencer raised a finger and smiled. "I'll get there." He watched as Millie grinned and shook her head, picking expertly with her chopsticks at her food.

"Anyway, three shootings had happened in the last three weeks. All the victims were shot in the abdomen."

Millie tilted her head. "The abdomen? Sorry but, wouldn't that _not_ kill them?"

Reid shook his head. "Virtually. So from that, we deduced that he was connected to law enforcement because of his marksmanship. At first, while we were reenacting the shooting, we had thought it was the roleplay shooter."

"It wasn't?"

"No. In the end, we figured out it was an ER specialist who worked during shift changes. A major hint was the hospital was near and he had to be pretty close to be prepared to shoot. He shot his victims so he would treat them later."

"Sounds like an ego issue."

"It was, in a way. When my unit chief, Hotch, and I went to apprehend the suspect, it we, uh, got held up in a hostage situation."

"You're kidding."

"No, not at all. Anyway, my boss distracted the criminal, making believe he was on his side, that I was useless and unnecessary. But see, he carried a gun on his ankle. So even though he was disarmed, he was able to give it to me while he, erm, kicked me."

"_Kicked_ you?"

"It was part of the act."

Millie placed some noodles into her mouth. "Seems a bit much. Continue."

"Right, and that's when I shot the guy, aimed for his leg, got him in the head." Millie frowned at the last bit.

"You killed him."

Spencer wasn't sure what he detected in her voice. Disappointment? Sympathy?

"Yeah…I, uh, had to."

"Of course, yeah," Millie said quickly, fiddling with her chopsticks. "It's just…y'know, he seemed like he could've been…I dunno, helped maybe."

"He hurt people, you know."

"Well, we all hurt people."

He smiled a little at that. In his little world of morally gray areas, of murder and blood and traitors and evil, the girl sitting across from him had hope that the murderers themselves could be repaired. Perhaps she even meant the man that took her vision. That could've been naïve, but after a moment of thought, she may have been right.

"So, even though he had a gun to both of you, you were still able to outsmart him with your," she motioned with her hands, "behavioral science thing?"

"Behavioral _analysis_," Spencer clarified. Millie giggled lightly.

"You must never get bored."

"Clearly you aren't familiar with paperwork."

They shared a laugh. Reid chewed on a piece of meat carefully. "So, what about you? What are you studying?"

Her expression seemed to change slightly. "Oh, uhm, I was working on majoring in studio art but that might be kind of difficult now that…"

Reid nodded. He watched as she furrowed her eyebrows, as she bit her lip slightly and her piercing eyes aimed downward. "You know…I read about a man named Eşref Armağan once," he spoke up, offering her a little smile.

Millie looked up from her food. She was beginning to grow fond of Reid's seemingly limitless and entertaining knowledge. "Who's he?"

"He has no eyes."

"Oh." She wondered where this was going. The agent could feel the change in her tone.

"But he's famous for his work, extremely famous for his perception of things. No one helps him, he works on his own yet he's fantastic and y'know, blindness shouldn't be treated as a disability, really, think of it as another style, a challenge."

Millie was quiet for a while, her face almost stonelike and he wondered if maybe he went too far. She scooted out of her chair. "Thanks for the take out, Spence. I'm feeling a bit drowsy, should I take the couch?"

Reid licked his lips and stood up as well. Droog leapt up from his position under the table and went to go investigate around Reid's abode. "Well, no, I could take the couch; you can sleep in my room."

She looked at his direction, a bit surprised. "Your room," she repeated.

"Well I mean, if y-you're comfortable with it, I just thought it'd be more-"

Millie seemed a bit amused at his nervousness and reached out to pat his arm a bit. "I could take your room...but I'd like to show you something." She looped her arm through his.

Reid looked down at her smiling face and couldn't help but feel a little funny in his chest. Her proximity made his cheeks warm a bit and the scent of his shampoo on her soft hair washed over him. It occurred to him that a really special friendship was being formed here, and perhaps, if he gave it enough time, something more? He shook all such thoughts out of his head, embarrassed. "I-I thought you were tired?"

"A bit. But sleep can wait, come on." Millie was beaming now, whatever she wanted to show him, she really cared a lot for.

Spencer was wary, if not intrigued. "It's almost one in the morning, where are we-?"

She made a shushing sound and tugged on his arm. "To the door, substitute seeing eye dog."

* * *

><p>After seemingly hours of walking, Spencer began to grow concerned if the directions from the blind girl were really legitimate.<p>

And the neighborhood they were strolling about wasn't so promising either. It occurred to him that in the case Millie was in potential danger, he didn't have a weapon and the possibilities began to race through his mind. Before he could speak up and suggest they turn back, his companion piped up. "Are we facing a sort of dark alley?"

"Er, to our left."

"Alright, c'mon Spence, we're going in."

He was going to tell her maybe walking into a dark alley didn't seem like the brightest idea at this hour and that the lack of light in the darkness didn't really appeal much to him when she turned her head and flashed him a brilliant smile and his throat tightened.

Spencer began to think if she was showing him this as recognition for her new found trust in him, which he hoped he hadn't been imagining.

She slipped out her flashlight on a keychain and stepped back, pressing her back against the opposite wall and beckoned for him to come closer.

He did and glanced up at what she was illuminating.

On the wall was street art, covering nearly the entire wall, displayed with intense colors and technique that his jaw dropped a little. It was incredible, the drawing was of a wide crack in the wall in a three dimensional perspective, beyond the crack was the scene of a landscape. A raging ocean, waves lapping against cliffs that bore tall trees and eerie mountains and for some reason, the scene reminded him of Tolkien's world and his mother handing him the beloved trilogy. Then there was a sort of light, he wasn't sure if it was the sun, but it was light, painting the skies, illuminating the whole daunting scene and without knowing it, he smiled.

"Who…drew this?"

Millie smiled to herself and he felt a hand tighten around his own. "It was how I began to get recognized. A senior painter training to be a professor saw it and went around this street, asking for me, jarred by the potential. I had done street art for a while already, in separate places, isolated places, to not get into trouble of any sorts."

Reid glanced down at her and he frowned a little at her expression, so solemn and wistful he wished she could see through his eyes. But he supposed seeing such a masterpiece once was enough, and she could somehow cope.

"It's beautiful, really. It's…wow." He blinked rapidly.

"Did I actually render the FBI genius speechless?" she asked him, a playful tone in her voice. He managed a chuckle. Millie leaned her head onto his shoulder and Reid looked at her in shock. He did his best not to move and wasn't quite sure how to respond, but he leaned into her a little, too. "The real beauty of it is its location. The streets of broken homes, broken families, lost opportunities. And then they stumble on this, if they stumble on this, my goal was for them to see some sort of hope. There is a light, despite everything, and you'll reach it eventually, no matter how hidden," Millie told him, and he glanced at her face for a second, to see if she was still the same broken girl who couldn't see the beauty of the world that she loved to paint.

He let her words sink in and they stayed like that for God knows how long, leaning against each other, one pair of eyes staring at what the other pair could not see. Yet the pair that couldn't view it seemed to see it better than the other eyes could ever yearn to.

* * *

><p>They went back to Reid's apartment later, both tired and breathless from making a run up the flight of stairs. Millie was laughing, telling him about a crazy story about how once she was almost arrested for vandalism, but she managed to convince the officer to let her go if she drew him something for his wife.<p>

She hadn't quite finished the story yet but as soon as Reid led her to his bed she closed her eyes, curling up under the covers and mumbled a good night. Spencer opened his closet and grabbed a pair of pillows and blankets and retreated to the couch.

"Spence?"

The voice that called out kind of jarred him out of his almost-sleep and he crept back into his room hesitantly. "Yes?"

Millie had scooted over to the far end of the queen-sized bed and patted the space next to her. If Spencer wasn't so tired, he probably would've stammered a refusal and scurried off to the next room and contemplated females and their complexity for hours.

Alas, Spencer was tired and there was a girl who needed some form of security that wasn't a black behemoth dog who was probably sprawled across his makeshift bed in the other room right about now. All the protest he had in him was, "Are you su-?"

"Yes, now shut up and get some sleep, then tomorrow you can save the world."

So he scooted into the far side of the bed, his back towards Millie and her back towards him. It was hard to tell what she was thinking or if she was even thinking, but he fell asleep only after wondering a whole lot about the enigma next to him and wishing for a split second he was close enough to maybe hear her heartbeat, to make sure she was breathing, that she was okay. He wanted to be the person she could rely on, stop her nightmares from coming true.

Right before he fell asleep, she shifted on the bed, turning towards him. He wondered if this was the first peaceful sleep she'd had.


End file.
